


grow as we go

by blazeofglory



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Childhood Friends, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Nostalgia, it’s about the Yearning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-24
Updated: 2020-04-24
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:08:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23816659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blazeofglory/pseuds/blazeofglory
Summary: When he was 16, Jim fell in love with his best friend.It’s been almost a decade, and Jim can’t run from his feelings forever.
Relationships: James T. Kirk/Leonard "Bones" McCoy
Comments: 16
Kudos: 98





	grow as we go

**Author's Note:**

> while all my works are dedicated to Sina, this one ESPECIALLY is because it was her idea and written just for her. you’re my best friend, bb. 
> 
> this fic is about YEARNING and tenderness and falling in love with your best friend when life is too complicated to let you be happy, but if you’re looking for plot, you won’t find it here. this is definitely a one-shot and I won’t be writing more in this setting. ❤️
> 
> last note: the title is from the Ben Platt song of the same name!

“You always come through with the good beer,” Bones says, then takes a long drink before setting the bottle aside and pointedly raising a brow at Jim. “You gonna tell me where you’ve been?”

“Here and there,” Jim answers with a shrug, avoiding Bones’s shrewd gaze. It’s been at least seven months since they’ve last seen each other. “California for a few weeks. Arizona for a month or so.” 

Bones nudges Jim’s foot with his own. “Meet anyone special that kept you gone so long this time?” 

Jim laughs and shrugs. “No one as good as you.”

It’s quiet between them for a bit, and it gets  _ quiet  _ here. It’s late and the town is asleep; the lights are off in all the houses and no cars are driving by. Jim and Bones are sitting on the stoop of Jim’s mom’s house, and it’s just them and the lightning bugs and the cicadas in the distance and the gentle wind in the trees. 

Jim closes his eyes and it’s like no time has passed at all; they’re 18 again and drinking stolen beer, feet pressed together as they talk about college, about the future, about getting out of this town. But Jim never did go to college, and Bones never did leave this town. And here they are, back on this stoop, and Bones is still Jim’s favorite person in the world. 

Jim knows that Bones wants to ask why he leaves, but he won’t, because then Jim would ask Bones why he stays. And that’s a conversation that neither of them want to have. 

“I heard you’ve got a girlfriend,” Jim says after a while, and he takes a drink of his beer just so he doesn’t have to look at Bones when he answers. 

“Yeah, her name’s Jocelyn,” Bones answers. “It’s not serious.” 

Jim shoots Bones a sideways grin. “That’s not what your mom told my mom.” 

Bones snorts. “They just love their gossip.” 

“One of these days, I’m gonna come back and you’ll be married, huh?” 

It’s the wrong thing to say and Jim knows it the second he says it. 

“You’re a fool if you think you wouldn’t be at my wedding,” Bones replies sharply. “And I’m  _ not  _ getting married, so quit it.” 

Jim sighs heavily and sets his beer aside. He leans back, all the way back, ‘til he’s laying down on the dirty old front porch. He looks over at Bones, and it’s still strange to see the way he’s aged. Jim comes back, he always comes back, but the Bones in his head—the Bones he knew like the back of his hand—that Bones is 18. This 25-year-old man is handsome and half a stranger. 

All this time, and Jim still wants to kiss him. 

“Do you remember being 16?” Jim asks suddenly. He fixes his gaze on the stars, so bright here like they never are in all the cities he goes to. The same god damn stars he used to wish on, about a decade ago. 

Bones lets out a quiet sigh, then lays down next to Jim, staring up at the sky too. Their shoulders press together and neither of them move away from the touch. 

“Of course I do,” Bones replies. It was the year of their junior prom, when they got drunk and Jim threw up in the school gymnasium and Bones dragged him home. It was the year they both had their first kisses, within a week of each other. It was the year that Bones aced all his classes and the year that Jim was MVP of the baseball team. It was the year that Bones’s dad got sick and Jim’s brother left. 

After a beat, Bones says, “Do you remember when you got really into astronomy that summer? You taught me all the constellations, and I don’t remember ‘em now, but I remember how excited you were about it.” 

“Oh man, I remember that,” Jim says with a quiet laugh. “You fell asleep right here on this porch.” 

“There were pillows and blankets,” Bones points out defensively. “You can’t blame me for getting tired.” 

Jim just laughs again. “It was cute.”

“Yeah, yeah.” 

“You know, I—” Jim cuts himself off suddenly, shaking his head. “Nevermind.” 

Jim can  _ feel  _ Bones’s gaze on his face when he asks, “What is it?” 

There are a million reasons that Jim should keep his mouth shut, but he can’t think of any of them right now. 

Jim keeps looking up at the stars and he says, as casually as he can manage, “I remember wanting to kiss you that night.” 

The cicadas seem extra loud in the ensuing silence. 

Finally, Bones speaks up, sounding incredulous. “You wanted to  _ kiss  _ me? You’ve never exactly been shy about that kinda stuff before, Jimmy, I think I would’ve noticed.” 

“I didn’t  _ want  _ you to notice,” Jim points out, chuckling. “I may not have gone to expensive therapy like you did, but I do know now that I was  _ really  _ repressed.” 

“You wanted to kiss me once?” Bones asks quietly. He shifts a little, ‘til their arms are pressed together. The old wood is digging into Jim’s back, but there’s no way he’s going to move now. “Is that the whole story?” 

Jim exhales heavily. “Come on, Bones, you know me. It’s never that simple.” 

“Why are you telling me this  _ now? _ ” Bones asks. 

“I have no idea,” Jim admits easily, grinning up at the wide open sky. “I’ve missed you, I’m feeling nostalgic, something like that.” 

“Who are we, that we’re reminiscing about high school like they were our golden years?” Bones snorts. “We can do better than that.” 

“Yeah, but have we?” Jim counters. He sits up suddenly, looking down at Bones. “Are you happy?” 

Bones looks away from Jim, focusing on the faraway constellations. “Are you?” 

Jim is quiet for a moment, and then—he just can’t find a good reason not to say it anymore—he says, casual as anything, “I was in love with you. When we were 16. And for a while after that.” 

“Jim—”

“I should’ve told you nine years ago, I know,” Jim interrupts, unable to stop the words now. “Because in hindsight, I know, I  _ know  _ it wasn’t just me. Even if it was just a little bit, you felt it too. But I think we were both too scared to do anything about it, and sometimes I just—I regret it. Don’t you regret it?” 

“Lay back down, Jim,” Bones says softly. 

Jim does. His hands are shaking. 

Bones presses their shoulders together. 

“You’ve always had so many secrets,” Bones says quietly. “But I suppose I did too.” 

The back of Bones’s hand bumps the back of Jim’s hand, and neither of them move their hands away. 

“I need you to say it,” Jim whispers. 

“I loved you too,” Bones replies without hesitation, voice soft and sure, and it’s a  _ lot  _ for Jim’s heart to handle. “I loved you so much I thought I might die, and I think I felt that way for a long time before I realized it. I was real lost back then, Jim. You were everything to me.”

It’s a strange vindication to hear the admittance of  _ I used to love you _ . It doesn’t feel anything like victory. 

“I was lost too,” Jim replies, a note of bitterness in his voice. “I still am.” 

“You decided that you couldn’t find what you needed here,” Bones whispers. “Is that why you left? To find someone that could love you back?” 

Jim swallows, throat suddenly thick with emotion. 

“I left more behind here than I ever found out there,” Jim admits. 

“Think you’ll stay this time?” Bones asks, all too casual. 

Jim thinks about lying so he doesn’t break the mood, but he doesn’t. Instead, he counters, “Why don’t you come with me instead?” 

“We’re getting too old to lay like this,” Bones says, standing up abruptly and dusting himself off. He offers Jim a hand, easily tugging him up, and—his palm feels warm and comforting in Jim’s, but Bones lets go once Jim is standing. 

Jim stands there, on the top of the porch steps, and he watches Bones take the few steps down and into the grass. Bones kicks off his shoes, digging his toes into the grass, and he should look at peace like this, but his face looks  _ angry.  _

“Why do you  _ do  _ this, Jimmy?” Bones demands, tossing his hands up in frustration. “Why do you come back just to leave me again? You can’t tell me you don’t miss me too, when you’re out there all alone lookin’ for somethin’ you’re never gonna find!” 

“Of course I miss you!” Jim replies, just as heated. “But I can’t  _ be  _ here, I just can’t! Don’t you think you deserve better than this too? Don’t you want to be with me instead?” 

Bones shakes his head, face set in a glare. “You know it’s not that easy, don’t you pretend like it is.” 

“It could be that easy if you let it,” Jim replies, feeling the fight go out of him as quickly as it came. He holds Bones’s gaze steadily and summons the courage he didn’t have when he was 16. “Don’t you think you could love me again if you tried?” 

“That’s not how this works,” Bones replies, softer now too as he shakes his head. “We had our chance already.” 

It’s only a few steps between them, a few rickety porch steps and some patchy lawn that’s more dandelions than grass, but Jim feels all the miles and years between them. 

“You didn’t answer the question,” Jim points out. “Do you think you could do it?” 

Bones looks away sharply. “You wanna know if I could fall in love with you again?” 

“Yeah.” 

“You’re a damn fool if you think I ever stopped loving you in the first place.” 

“Bones—” Jim starts, stepping forward into the grass, heart in his throat. The night feels still all around them, like even the cicadas are waiting with bated breath. 

“Just shut up,” Bones interrupts, stepping closer and meeting Jim in the middle. They’re about the same height, which had made Jim mad as a kid when he was so proud of his growth spurt and Bones caught up a few months later. Bones looks torn, Bones looks  _ wrecked _ ; his eyes are bright with unshed tears and his hands are shaky when he reaches for Jim. 

“We should’ve done this a long time ago,” Bones says, and then he cups Jim’s face gently with both hands and draws him into a tender kiss. It’s the sweetest thing Jim’s ever felt in his life, and he kisses back immediately, eyes slipping shut and hands falling to Bones’s waist. Jim holds tight and kisses Bones harder, terrified that this will never happen again if he eases up for a second. 

It’s not fireworks; that would dim in comparison. It feels like the culmination of a lifetime of longing, it feels like coming home, it feels like summer and freedom and the previously unmatched wonder of a sky full of constellations. Jim loses himself in the kiss, biting Bones’s bottom lip, then Bones licks his way into Jim’s mouth and Jim makes a soft noise. 

Finally, Bones pulls back, but only enough to touch their foreheads together as they breathe in each other’s air. 

“I need you to stay,” Bones whispers, and Jim can feel Bones’s breath on his lips. “Stay and be with me, ‘til we know each other again. Stay ‘til we’re more in love with each other as we are now than we are with some memory.” 

“And then?” Jim prompts softly. “Will you leave with me?” 

“You know I’ve got responsibilities here,” Bones replies. “I can’t make a promise like that. But I—I can say I’ll try.” 

Jim lets out a deep breath. He’s never been this nervous and elated in his life. 

“I love you,” Jim says, voice thick with conviction. “And I’m going to keep loving you.” 

Bones kisses him again, soft and fleeting, and he murmurs, “I know, darlin’. Me too.” 


End file.
